


Suppression

by becameapasttime (mitslits), Corvin



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Child Trafficking, Non-magical AU, Self Penetration, brief voyeurism, credence's first time, mentions of oc, police officer!graves, police officer!tina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/becameapasttime, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvin/pseuds/Corvin
Summary: Credence lusts after the idea of being penetrated. At first it's a directionless want, it creeps into his mind as he lays in bed at night. Men he's seen throughout the day, the broad ones with big hands and mature eyes, run through his mind as he tests himself with his fingers.But one day, he sees a man that stops him in his tracks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kinkmeme prompt 
> 
> This was supposed to be something quick and easy, but uh... we got out of hand.

Credence didn’t remember when his sinful nature first began to grow so strong. It was like an ever-present shadow, creeping in when he was too exhausted to resist. When he laid in bed, the devil would visit, bringing images and desires that stirred Credence back into wakefulness, and had him fighting against his own arousal. 

The worst of it came one night after he’d caught a man and a woman together in an alley. They didn’t notice Credence until he dropped his pamphlets, shocked into stillness. They jerked away from each other, both clearly embarrassed but still angry at being disturbed. It was the first time Credence had seen other people’s nudity, and his shock quickly turned to curiosity. 

The man’s cock hung heavy out of his trousers, still hard from having been buried inside the woman. Then they yelled, and Credence turned and fled, not wanting to wait and see what they might do to him for interrupting. He made it all the way back to the church before he felt a familiar heat stirring in his belly.

After that, the images in his head began to take a new turn.

Credence couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d seen, the woman’s legs wrapped around the man’s waist, his hips pushing him inside her over and over. He wondered how it would feel, to have someone thrust into him like that. 

When Credence first tried his fingers, it hurt. He was too dry and too tense, and it had felt like God’s punishment. 

But two days later, Credence saw a stonemason with thick forearms and a heavy brow. He’d woken up in the middle of the night to a sticky mess on his skin and sheets. Normally, when it happened, Credence would frantically wipe everything clean so that Ma wouldn’t find out. But this time, on a whim, he wiped at it with his fingers, slicking them a bit before reaching between his legs. 

Although his lust had already been sated, Credence stretched himself with two fingers while his imagination ran wild. Thoughts of the stonemason resurfaced, his limp cock twitching as he pictured the man holding him down, his fingers taking the place of Credence’s. They would be long and thick, and… Credence brushed over a spot that had him sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from crying out. 

Terrified by his brief lapse of control, Credence tugged his fingers out, breathing heavily. He stared up at the ceiling, waiting to see if  Ma had heard him. Minutes dragged by, and the sheen of sweat on Credence’s body cooled, until he only felt cold and tired. Thankfully, Mary Lou didn’t seem to have heard anything.

Eventually, he forced himself to move, cleaning himself off and doing what he could for the sheets. Exhausted, he crawled back underneath them, falling into an uneasy sleep.  

His nightly activities became more commonplace after that. 

Any time Credence saw a man that sparked his interest on the street, lust flared within him, only satisfied when he inevitably gave into temptation. He knew that with every stroke of his hand he damned himself further, but the pleasure was too intoxicating to resist. 

He knew he had truly strayed from God’s light when he returned to the alley where he’d seen the couple. The first incident had been months ago, and the days had grown shorter and colder since then. Credence told himself that he only needed to rest, but he recognized the street and eagerly made his way back. 

It was empty, but his mind conjured the couple from before. He wondered if it would be different this time, if they were there. If he would have the fortitude to remain quiet, and the perversion to watch them finish. 

Credence didn’t have to look down to know that he was getting hard. He was so familiar with the feeling by that point that it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He exhaled slowly through his mouth, thinking about the walk home. Even if no one else saw him, he couldn’t go home in this state. Ma noticed everything, and he would surely be severely punished. 

He moved like he was in a trance, deeper into the alley so that no passersby could possibly see him. Fortunately, he had no more pamphlets left for the day, and his hands were free to open his trousers as he walked.

Leaning against the wall, with his back still to the street, Credence began to masturbate. His hands and knees shook, and he wasn’t sure in that moment if it was due to the sensation of sinning so publicly, or fear of being caught. He covered his mouth with one hand, letting out a muffled sob, and hating the part of him that drove him to this. Tears dripped from his eyes as he came, the evidence of his shame splattered against the wall and ground. 

Credence jerked his hand away and hid his face in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t stop crying. It was almost completely dark by the time he collected himself enough to push off  the alley wall, and start stumbling home. He hoped Ma wouldn’t notice his red-rimmed eyes, or the way his hands were still trembling. 

At least it wouldn’t be the first time he’d come home in such a state. More than once people had roughed him up, snatching away his pamphlets, and occasionally getting in a swing or two. 

His worries, as it turned out, were unfounded. Mary Lou barely looked at Credence when he slipped inside, let alone criticized him for his behavior. Credence did his best not to draw attention to himself for the rest of the night, relieved when he was finally able to settle into his bed, close his eyes, and be alone.

Things continued in that vein for months. Credence sometimes felt that he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t look for men to think about while he was in bed. He even started to wonder if he could go further. His ma preached about evil, preying inverts so often, he was sure he wasn’t the only one in New York. How much more insatiable would Credence be if he found someone to bed him? 

Credence cut those thoughts off as soon as they started. He needed to  _ cure _ this perversion, not encourage it.

With his miserable secret burning inside him, he went about his usual routine. He wandered the streets with his pamphlets, and tried not to stare at men who caught his fancy.   
  


Credence caught a whiff of grease just before a woman stepped into his path. He froze, looking at her more carefully from under his eyelashes. He recognized her as one of the few semi-regulars at the church. She was holding a hot dog, and seemed too busy hunching into the high collar of her coat to notice the mustard on her lip. 

“Credence Barebone.” Her voice rose at the end like a question, but her determined expression made it clear she knew who he was. “My name is Tina. I was wondering if I could have a word with you.” 

“Is this about the church?” Credence asked. Normally if parishioners had questions they talked to his ma. 

One corner of Tina’s mouth edged up into an uncertain smile. “Something like that.” 

Credence tilted his head in the direction of the church. “Ma should be in,” he muttered, staring down at the pavement. “I can get her for you, if you want.” 

“Actually,” Tina said quickly, stretching her hand out towards him, “I was hoping to speak with  _ you _ , Credence. You know. Just the two of us. Would that be alright?” 

Credence looked around, noting that the street was mostly empty. Unbidden, memories of the couple from the alley flashed across his mind. Could it be that Tina wanted more than just ‘a word’? It occurred to Credence that he had never actually thought of a woman the same way he thought of men. But maybe, if he had an ‘encounter’ with Tina, he would be cured.  

“Y-yes,” Credence agreed, determined to at least try. Fornication outside of marriage was still a sin, but surely it could be overlooked if it took away his inversion. 

“Follow me.” Tina looked around again, and took another bite of her hot dog. Gesturing for Credence to come with her, she moved off, striding purposefully down the sidewalk. 

Credence followed after her, feeling ungainly and awkward. He was all apprehension, and there was none of the excitement that would sizzle under his skin when he climbed into bed for the night. 

Tina ducked into an alley suddenly, and Credence had to stop and take a deep breath. He was going to do it, and it would fix him somehow. Even if he still lusted, it would at least be after women, as God intended. 

Heart hammering in his chest, Credence forced his feet to move. He followed Tina around the corner, convinced he was going to be sick. “Tina,” he said weakly, “I don’t know if I-” Then his eyes locked onto the figure waiting for them at the end of the alley.

It was an older man, possibly a businessman by the smart cut of his suit and his clean shaven jaw. Credence froze at the site of him, the lust he’d been trying desperately to conjure up suddenly igniting. Why had Tina brought him to a well-to-do man in a back alley? Was he there to service  _ him _ instead of Tina? 

He shoved the ridiculous thought aside; no one of this man’s stature would be interested in Credence. Even if he had a similar perversion, there were far more beautiful people in the world that he could have. And besides that, Tina didn’t know Credence was sick. Thoroughly confused, Credence stumbled to a halt. 

“This is Mr. Graves,” Tina said before Credence could muster the courage to ask. “He’s the NYPD Commissioner, and we wanted to ask some questions about the New Salem Philanthropic Society.”

Mr. Graves offered his hand to Credence. “Mr. Barebone,” he said, with a polite nod. 

Credence took the proffered hand, Mr. Graves turning the handshake firm. Credence was certain he would be thinking about Mr. Graves’ grip later that night. 

“Miss Goldstein here has told me a little about your situation, but I’d like to hear it firsthand,” Mr. Graves continued.   

“My situation?” Credence asked, dry-mouthed. Did Tina know after all? Were they here to arrest him for inversion? Credence dropped Mr. Graves’ hand, and retreated a couple steps. 

Tina placed a cautionary hand on Mr. Graves’ arm. “We just have some questions about Mary Lou,” she assured Credence, sensing his hesitation.

If they had questions for his ma, then why weren’t they talking to her? Credence held his pamphlets tightly to his chest. He wanted to run, but didn’t doubt that Tina and Mr. Graves would be able to catch him easily.

“You aren’t in trouble, Credence,” Tina told him. “This is about your mother, and the orphans that come to your church.” 

“We feed them,” Credence said weakly. It was one of the few things he felt like he was doing right in his wretched life.

Tina and Mr. Graves exchanged a look that Credence only saw out of the corner of his eye because he was staring at their feet.

Mr. Graves cleared his throat. “How many children usually come to the church to be fed?” 

Forcing himself to look up, Credence did a quick mental tally. “Around two dozen,” he finally said. “Sometimes more, sometimes less.”

“And have any of them gone missing?” Mr. Graves asked. “Or have any of them stopped showing up without any explanation?” 

Over the years, Credence had seen several children wasting away from various illnesses or harsh conditions, and mourned when they no longer returned. Some whispered to each other about  finding work in factories or assembly lines; the more optimistic among them even mentioned families. But none of that sounded like the sort of information Mr. Graves was after. Credence frowned, trying to think of what they could be looking for, when Tina interjected.

“Credence, we have reason to believe Mary Lou has sold several children into slavery.” 

It was then that Credence remembered Leo, a little boy who had a birthmark on his face. He was a fixture for close to a year before he suddenly stopped showing up. Credence wondered what had happened to him; he’d seemed in fine health and good spirits.

That had been three weeks ago. Mary Lou sold Leo to someone three weeks ago, and Credence had been too caught up in his own sin to notice. It wasn’t only him feeling God’s wrath; Credence’s punishment was spilling over to the helpless children he was supposed to feed.

“Oh God,” Credence breathed. His chest and throat felt tight, like they’d suddenly closed up on him, and he could feel tears pushing at the backs of his eyes. His arms fell limp at his sides, the pamphlets scattering on the ground. “How could I not have seen…”

Mary Lou was a child trafficker. She fed them, and when she found they were worth something, they quietly disappeared off the streets. And Credence had been complicit. 

“Credence, you have to breathe,” Tina said, grabbing his shoulders. 

He didn’t notice her move closer to him. He also didn’t realize that he wasn’t breathing until he inhaled shakily, relieving his lungs. “I didn’t know,” Credence whimpered, trying to shrink away from Tina’s grasp. “I swear I didn’t know.” His chest still felt tight, like his ribs were suddenly too small, pressing into his lungs. 

“Listen to me,” Tina said, still holding onto him. “We know you’re innocent. It’s okay. I promise, it’s going to be okay.”

The sound of her voice reminded him of Ma. There was never any pleasing or dissuading her once she decided that Credence was guilty. He flinched away from Tina unintentionally, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, sounding half-strangled.

“Credence, it’s okay!” 

Mr. Graves’ voice cut in then. “For God’s sake, Goldstein.” 

Credence felt Tina’s hands move from his shoulders, but he still didn’t open his eyes. It could be a trick, she could-- 

His mind went blank as he felt a large hand rest on the back of his neck, tugging him forward. Credence opened his eyes to found his face resting against the expensive-feeling fabric of Mr. Graves’ coat. Slowly, the thought that he was in danger subsided, and he slumped against Mr. Graves, shoulders hunched.

When he eventually brought himself to pull away, he glanced at Tina. “Sorry,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Then he peered up at Mr. Graves through his eyelashes, taking a couple reluctant steps back. “Thank you.” 

“Credence,” Mr. Graves said, and his voice was so low that Credence could practically feel it reverberate in his bones. “We want to save these children, but to do that we need your help.” He moved closer, carelessly stepping on the pamphlets.

Credence wanted Mr. Graves to touch him again, wanted to memorize the way the contact burned him in a way he’d never felt before. He kept his eyes on Mr. Graves’ tie, unwilling to raise them further. “How can I help?” 

“For now, just answer a few questions.” 

Credence swallowed, nodding resolutely. “Okay,” he said, glancing between Tina and Mr. Graves again. “What do you want to know?”

Most of the questions they asked pertained to Mary Lou; when she had opportunities to be alone with the children, or if Credence knew who she might be handing them off to. It seemed to go on for hours, though the sun had barely moved when they finally seemed satisfied. 

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Barebone,” Mr. Graves said, clapping Credence on the shoulder. “You’ve been a great help to us.”

Mr. Graves’ hand slid off his shoulder, and Credence missed the weight of it as soon as it was gone. 

Tina smiled at Credence as well, but she clearly noticed his flinch when she stepped closer. Instead of touching his shoulder as Mr. Graves did, she dug her hands into her pockets and said, “Have a good day, Credence.”  

“You too, Ms. Goldstein,” Credence said. He wanted to apologize again for the way he’d acted earlier, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. She was gone before he could unstick them. 

He was left alone in the alley, wondering how he was possibly going to face Mary Lou now. 

Credence dragged his feet home, not bothering to gather the pamphlets from the ground. After all, how could he trust anything his ma said? 

By the time he reached the church, Credence had decided the best thing to do would be to keep his mouth shut. He kept his vow of silence all through dinner and the washing up, only once breaking it to assure Mary Lou that he’d distributed his pamphlets. If she noticed anything was amiss, she didn’t mention it. 

Despite his initial thoughts upon meeting Mr. Graves, and the feeling of being held still fresh in his mind, Credence went to bed without touching himself. His mind churned with everything he’d learned about his ma, what she was a part of. He couldn’t imagine how he might be able to help Tina and Mr. Graves stop her, but he vowed to do whatever he could. 

Even worn out as he was by the day’s events, Credence found it difficult to fall asleep. Eventually, however, exhaustion won out over horror. He closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness. 

It felt like he started halfway through the dream, after he fell asleep. Mr. Graves had him pinned face first against the alley wall. It wasn’t like the couple he’d seen before, fumbling gracelessly in the oncoming darkness. No, Mr. Graves knew exactly what he was doing.

His hot breath warmed the back of Credence’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine. His thigh slotted neatly between Credence’s legs, pushing them apart, and he suddenly realized he was naked from the waist down. He felt the pressure of fingers, heard Mr. Graves growling his name.

Credence tried to respond, but Mr. Graves pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. Then the hand was gone, and Credence felt something else, a rush of heat, and he knew Mr. Graves was going to take him. Anticipation rather than fear surged through his veins, his own cock stirring.

Finally, he would have someone’s hands other than his own.   

The feeling of cold air hit him before anything else. And then Mr. Graves’ commanding hands were gone, and Credence blinked his eyes open to find only the darkness of his tiny room. His cock lay heavy and aching between his legs. Credence nearly groaned in frustration, but caught himself before he could, pressing his lips together tightly. 

He reached beneath his thin blanket before he remembered the reason he hadn’t done anything before he slept. Instead of withdrawing his hand, Credence dropped it onto his stomach. Guilt twisted low in his gut, but it didn’t last long, chased away by the memory of his dream.

Credence bit his lip and reached down again. It was only too easy to imagine Graves doing it instead, and Credence had to force himself to go slow and stay silent. But it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. He needed more, needed what the dream had promised him. 

He stuck two fingers in his mouth, waiting until they were practically dripping to ease them inside himself. He whimpered. Credence already knew what  _ he _ felt like; now he wanted Mr. Graves’ blunt fingers and manicured nails stretching him open, readying him for something even better.

Credence climaxed to the thought of Mr. Graves sinking into him. He breathed his name into the darkness before slumping back against his pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. Soon enough, guilt came creeping back. What would Mr. Graves think of him, doing something like this? 

After catching his breath, Credence rolled onto his side and reached under his mattress for the rag he’d stowed away. Once he’d wiped away all evidence of his sin, he folded it up and tucked it away. He would be able to sneak it along to wash when he used the washroom the next morning. 

Credence tried unsuccessfully to get back to sleep, thoughts of the children filling his head. They came to the church for sanctuary, all of them unsuspecting. He knew many of them by name, and yet any one of them could vanish at any moment. Like Leo had. 

Credence tossed and turned so much he considered it a miracle that he didn’t wake anyone. 

A lingering look from Modesty the next morning told Credence that he was visibly exhausted. But fortunately, so long as his hair was combed, his suit was on, and his eyes were down, Mary Lou cared little for his appearance.

He went through the motions, trying to keep an eye on Mary Lou while they prepared a meager breakfast of watery gruel. After they ate, Credence, Modesty, and Chastity were tasked to clean the church top to bottom. It would never not be shabby, but Mary Lou always said that cleanliness was next to godliness.

The menial tasks of scrubbing floors, washing windows, and sweeping down cobwebs did nothing to keep Credence’s mind from wandering. He wondered where Leo was. What sort of monster would purchase a sweet, little boy who always let littler ones go ahead of him in the soup line? 

For days, the question plagued Credence. Almost a full week passed, with no sign of Tina or Mr. Graves. But Credence couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, knowing what he knew. He kept tabs on Mary Lou, and noted anything that seemed suspicious. He watched to see which children caught her eye, memorizing their faces. He laid awake at night, and strained his ears for signs of someone moving about the church. 

The only relief he got was when he was on the streets distributing pamphlets, where there was no one to watch besides the strangers drifting by. Credence found that none of the men really captured his attention any more. He could only think of Mr. Graves. 

There was always a certain amount of guilt that accompanied these fantasies, but Credence couldn’t help himself. Glimpses of dark hair and brown eyes would have Credence sneaking off to quiet backstreets to take care of himself.

It was on one such occasion that he bumped into the man himself. He’d hurried into the alley without looking, and collided with a solid figure. Credence stepped away, already stammering an apology. 

“It’s alright,” said a familiar voice. 

Credence’s head whipped up so fast it was a miracle it didn’t go flying off. Instantly, his face went flaming red, even though there was no way Mr. Graves could have known what he was there for. “Mr. Graves?” 

“Mr. Barebone. You’re just who I was looking for.” There was a grim set to Mr. Graves’ jaw, but his eyes were soft, drawing Credence in even as he stepped back into the alley.

“I… I am?” Credence asked. He followed Mr. Graves to the end of the alley, casting a glance over his shoulder as they left the busy street behind.

“I wanted to give you an update,” Mr. Graves leaned close when they stopped, dropping his voice. “We’ve been working on getting a warrant based on your testimony, but we’ll need to find out where Mary Lou is taking the children.” 

Credence thought back to the all the times his ma had temporarily disappeared. If she knew he was following her, he would be punished severely, but he had to try. 

“I could try and find out for you,” Credence offered quietly. 

Mr. Graves was shaking his head before Credence had even finished speaking. “I can’t ask you to do that, Credence.” 

“I want to,” Credence insisted. “Mr. Graves, I can’t… I can’t let her take any more children.” He forced himself to meet Mr. Graves’ eyes, willing him to understand. 

Mr. Graves eventually relented, reaching out to rest his hands on Credence’s shoulders. “Credence. I want you to know this isn’t your fault.” 

Credence glanced down, shuffling his feet. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, not sure what to say. It  _ felt _ like his fault. He only looked up again when the hand around his shoulder tightened. Mr. Graves’ face was closer than he expected, and his breath caught in his chest. 

“I want you to have something.” Mr. Graves didn’t move away as he reached into his jacket pocket. 

Credence couldn’t look away, his heart pounding behind his ribcage.

He wasn’t sure what he expected Mr. Graves to reveal, but a small pad of paper wasn’t it. Credence looked at it, lost, but accepted it when Mr. Graves shook it. 

“We use these during investigations,” Mr. Graves said. “You can write down anything that seems amiss, and any times and dates you think will be helpful.” 

Credence nodded, determined to be as much help as possible. This was an official case, after all; he didn’t want to be the reason Mary Lou escaped punishment. It wouldn’t matter what might happen to Credence, so long as Mary Lou wasn’t in a position to hurt the children any more.  

The more Credence thought about it, the more he realized how uncertain the future would be, if this succeeded. With Mary Lou gone, the church would close, and he and his sisters would be out on the streets with the rest of the orphaned children. He looked down at the pavement, cleared his throat, and said, “Mr. Graves. What will… what will happen to us after Mary Lou is gone?” 

“I had assumed you would inherit the church,” Mr. Graves said, frowning slightly. “You’re of age.” 

Credence shook his head, still not looking at him. “She wouldn’t give me the church.”  

“When she’s in jail, she won’t have any claim to the property, so as her oldest child, it would fall to you,” Mr. Graves explained.

“And my sisters?” Before this moment, Credence hadn’t given any real thought to life after Mary Lou. Even recently, his focus had been on assisting Mr. Graves with the arrest. But now he couldn’t help but think past that. What would he do with the church, even if it fell to him?  

“Guardianship would pass to you as well,” said Mr. Graves, before adding, “If you want it, that is.”

Credence chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating that. He didn’t know how to raise himself, let alone anyone else. Besides, there was his inversion to think about. How could he possibly raise Modesty in a godly way when he himself was damned. “If I don’t?” he asked quietly, hesitantly.  

“Then they’d go to a state orphanage, if there’s room. If not...” Mr. Graves didn’t need to finish. 

After all, Credence fed the street orphans regularly. He knew where children went when there was no room left for them. He also knew that he would never do that to Modesty or Chastity.

Squaring his shoulders, Credence made his decision. “I’ll look after them.” 

Something that might have been pride flitted over Mr. Graves’ face, and he gave Credence a polite nod. “I’m sure she’ll be happier for it.” Then, clearing his throat, he added, “We’ll check back in three days. There’s a small bakery we can meet up at, Kowalski’s over on 3rd. Noon?” 

“Kowalski’s, three days, noon,” Credence repeated.

Mr. Graves reached out, tapping the notepad, one corner of his mouth edging into a smile. “Don’t have to keep it all in your head.”

Blushing, Credence scribbled down the information. 

“I’ll see you then, Mr. Barebone.” Mr. Graves offered his hand, and Credence flinched before he could stop himself. 

Realizing what he’d done, he cleared his throat, tucking the notepad under one arm and reaching to shake Mr. Graves’ hand with the other. “Mr. Graves.”

“Remember, find the evidence.” With that, Graves was gone, leaving Credence alone with only the notepad as proof that he hadn’t been dreaming.

That night, Credence once again found himself staring  at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Mr. Graves dominated his thoughts. They had a plan now, a real plan for after Mary Lou was gone. It helped assuage some of his guilt, knowing that he wouldn’t be leaving them all in the lurch. Maybe, somehow, he could give them a better life. He had to at least  _ try _ . He owed them that much.

Eventually, Credence’s mind wandered to darker things, as it always did when he thought of Mr. Graves. It was only too easy to recall the way Mr. Graves had looked at him,  _ at _ him instead of through him, like everyone else seemed to. The full force of his attentions had almost felt like too much when it had been just the two of them in that alley. Credence both hoped and dreaded that Tina would be with them at the bakery.

But for now, Credence held onto the memory of the alley, the space between that hadn’t felt like space, Mr. Graves’ presence that seeped into the very air, electric and all-encompassing. Credence never wanted to forget that feeling. 

Slowly, Credence reached under the blanket, fondling himself over his clothes. He stroked himself almost lazily, not dipping under his waistband until he was half-hard. He imagined Mr. Graves touching him, not only on his shoulder, but everywhere, hands roaming, exploring every inch of Credence’s skin. He didn’t realize how affected he was by his own imagination until ‘Mr. Graves’ gripped his cock, and a gasp ripped out of him.

Instantly, Credence released himself, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to stop an aggrieved whimper. If he came now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep silent. Restless, Credence’s fingers trailed over his inner thighs, setting the sensitive skin there alight. They traveled further up, gently massaging the skin behind his balls, and causing him to squirm in pleasure. 

He lifted his hips, teasing his fingertips over his asshole. His teeth met his bottom lip again, but it was getting harder to keep back the moans and gasps that wanted to escape.

What would it be like, Credence wondered, if it really were Mr. Graves’ hands instead of his own? Would he be rough and take what he wanted, or patient and have only what Credence offered? What would he want from Credence? Would he want him to stay quiet, as he had been doing, or would Graves want to hear him?

Credence eased a fingertip inside himself. A burst of pain prevented him from pushing his finger in any further. He kept his thrust shallow and ran his thumb along his perineum, toes curling at the stimulation. It wasn’t quite enough to push him over the edge, so he wrapped his left hand around his cock, stroking quickly. It felt a little different, but his imagination ran wild with the altered sensation, and he could practically feel Mr. Graves’ weight on top of him. 

Credence milked himself through his orgasm, trying to chase the fevered memory of Mr. Graves’ voice. He hardly noticed that he’d dug his heels into the mattress to thrust sloppily until the sound of his bedframe squeaking broke his concentration. Credence carefully lowered his body back to the mattress, sated for another night.

Three days passed by slowly, Credence remaining as vigilant as ever. He wrote in his notebook religiously, determined to find something helpful. He noticed Mary Lou dealing with people she had no business dealing with, namely the younger Shaw brother. What could a politician’s brother like him possibly want with someone like Mary Lou? All of it, every detail, went in the notebook.

By the time their meeting arrived, Credence felt confident that he’d found  _ something _ that could help Tina and Mr. Graves. It took him longer than it should have to get to the bakery. He’d spent extra time trying to give a shine to his old, ill-fitting shoes with just his sleeve. After giving that up as a lost cause, he’d spent the whole walk pausing at every store front to mess with his hair in the reflection. Altogether unsatisfied with his appearance, he eventually decided to just leave things as they were. 

Nerves twisted Credence’s stomach into knots as he stood outside Kowalski’s, trying to scrape together the courage to go inside. He could see Mr. Graves through the glass, leaning in to listen to whatever Tina was saying.

Tina happened to glance over and notice Credence while he stood outside, oscillating in the street. She waved at him, Mr. Graves turning to see who she was looking at. When he spotted Credence, he motioned for him to come inside as well, smiling invitingly. 

Credence gulped and obeyed. He’d long since grown used to the biting cold of Novembers in New York, but the warm air and smell of fresh bread still helped him relax.

“Credence,” Mr. Graves greeted him, with a polite nod. 

They led him to a table sequestered in the back, away from the main crush of people. Almost as soon as they’d taken their seats, a mustachioed man bustled over with a plate piled with more pastries and rolls than Credence had seen in the past month. 

The man set the plate on the table with a flourish. “On the house, of course,” he said with a wink to Tina, who smiled in return. 

“Thank you, Jacob.”

Mr. Graves nodded toward the plate, glancing between it and Credence. “Have you eaten today?” he asked. 

Credence shook his head. He’d been far too nervous about the meeting to stomach anything. 

“Go on, then, you can have first pick,” Tina said. She pushed the plate towards him encouragingly. 

Credence opened his mouth to decline, but his stomach growled. Both Mr. Graves and Tina leveled him with a look, and he meekly selected whatever was on top of the pile without even looking. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking a bite of it. 

Mr. Graves flagged down the man, Jacob, again. “Three coffees, please, Mr. Kowalski.” 

“Youse guys are in luck,” Jacob said brightly. “I just made a fresh pot.” He returned seconds later bearing three steaming mugs on a tray. Carefully, he placed it on the table. “Cream or sugar?” 

“No, thank you.” Mr. Graves took a mug from the tray for himself, before he put another in front of Credence. 

Credence inhaled cautiously, a bit taken aback by the heady aroma. Coffee was considered a luxury in the Barebone household, and he’d never been permitted to have any. He raised the mug to his lips, taking a small sip. His face screwed up as the bitter taste flooded his tongue. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he quickly schooled his expression into something more neutral, swallowing manfully. 

He could tell by the amusement on Tina’s and Mr. Graves’ faces that he wasn’t fooling anyone. 

“Maybe a little cream and sugar,” Tina said to Jacob. 

Jacob left to go fetch the fixings, leaving them to their devices.

Mr. Graves looked to Credence, raising his eyebrows. “Have you found anything out?” 

Credence perked up and drew out the notebook, clutching it tightly to disguise his shaking hands. This was it, the time to either prove his worth, or prove he was worthless. “I have, Mr. Graves. I’ve found some things, they’re all in here.” He handed the notebook over, placing his hands in his lap. “Can you, um. Can you read it?” 

He’d tried his best to write as neatly as possible, but Mary Lou had never placed much value on being able to write, and he didn’t have much experience. 

Mr. Graves flipped through the pages, eyes moving as he scanned over Credence’s writing. “This is good,” Mr. Graves said, handing the notebook to Tina for her to peruse. “We can use this.” 

Warmth bubbled up inside Credence, a feeling of accomplishment he didn’t often experience washing over him. He didn’t get the chance to say anything before Jacob reappeared. 

“Cream and sugar,” he announced, placing both in front of Credence. 

“Thank you, Mr. Kowalski, that will be all,” Mr. Graves said with a pleasant, but firm smile. 

Jacob seemed to take the hint, clapping Credence on the shoulder before hurrying off behind the counter. 

Credence added some cream and sugar to his coffee, stirring it in and turning the dark liquid lighter.

As he did so, Mr. Graves and Tina bent their heads together, speaking in a low, quick tone that Credence couldn’t make out. 

Credence forgot to drink his coffee, too absorbed in watching the two of them to bother with it. He leaned forward to try and catch what they were saying, but the cafe was too loud, and their voices too hurried. His stomach began tying itself into knots again. What if Mr. Graves had been lying, and he had been useless after all?  

Abruptly, Tina and Mr. Graves cut themselves off. Mr. Graves turned to Credence, said, “Thank you Credence. We’ll be in touch.” He stood and placed a few bills on the table, Tina quickly following suit. With that, they were gone, hurrying out of the cafe. 

Credence didn’t know what to do. His stomach was suddenly too tight for the coffee and delicious pastries sitting in front of him. 

Jacob approached, craning his neck to look out the store front window. “Seems like they got somewhere to be,” he said, patting Credence’s shoulder. “What about you, kid, you okay?” 

“Yes, sir,” Credence mumbled, “but I don’t think I can finish all of this.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can find someone who’ll take them.” Jacob walked Credence to the door, one of the pastries tucked neatly away in a bag that he pressed upon him. 

Credence wasn’t going to accept it, but Jacob insisted, and he decided he might as well give it to Modesty. They didn’t often get small treats like this, and he knew she would appreciate it. 

As soon as he returned to the church, he sought out Modesty. She was as delighted with the pastry as he’d suspected she would be. “You can’t tell Ma about this,” he cautioned her, but she was already nodding. They both knew their mother’s rules. 

After that, he set to work. There were windows to be cleaned, tables to be dusted, pamphlets to be printed, and he’d spent the whole morning in the cafe. It was going on evening by the time Credence finished everything, and the food from earlier seemed a long ways away. Dinner that night was a thin soup that made him long for the rich taste of Jacob’s pastries. 

Mary Lou sent them up to bed soon afterwards. She wanted them well-rested to distribute  pamphlets at the edge of the city. They didn’t often go that far out, and she hoped traveling further would find them some new followers. 

Credence settled into bed, closing his eyes, and waiting for the thoughts of Mr. Graves that were all but inevitable. The few words of praise Mr. Graves had given him replayed over and over in his mind. He wanted more of that, more of the warm feeling that Mr. Graves sparked inside him.

His mind wandered away from the events of the day, towards a different world where it was just him and Mr. Graves. They could talk about a million things besides Mary Lou, and Mr. Graves would think Credence was clever and interesting. And at the end of the evening, they wouldn’t have to part ways. Mr. Graves would take him home, where it was always warm with plenty of food.

Somewhere along the line, thinking turned to dreaming. Credence didn’t even realize it until he woke up, slightly disoriented. Chastity was knocking at his door, warning him that he only had a few moments to get downstairs or else he’d miss breakfast. 

The next few days trickled by. Time seemed to crawl as Credence stood on unfamiliar streets, clutching his pamphlets. His eyes roved the crowds, seeking one face in particular, but he never saw it. Maybe he wouldn’t ever see Mr. Graves again. It was a depressing thought, but one that kept coming back. 

Mr. Graves had gotten what he needed from Credence. Why would he come back for him now? 

Nearly a week passed, and Credence grew despondent. It was the morning of the seventh day and there was still no sign of Mr. Graves. Mary Lou had left shortly before on an errand, and Credence had barely found the energy to write it down in his notebook. He looked up when there was a knock at the door, but Chastity moved to answer it before him. 

“Hello,” a familiar voice said when Chastity had opened the door. “Is this the New Salem Philanthropic Society?” 

Credence stood  so quickly his chair clattered to the floor. Flustered, he set about righting it. “Mr. Graves?” He looked towards the door while still trying to set his chair on the ground. It fell over twice more before he finally abandoned it. 

Chastity stood aside, puzzled. “Do you know him?” she asked Credence. 

Credence nodded as Mr. Graves stepped inside. “Chastity, why don’t you go help Modesty upstairs?”

Chastity’s frown only deepened as she looked between the two of them. “But who is he?” she insisted. “Why is he here?” 

“My name is Percival Graves,” Mr. Graves broke in, before Credence had a chance to speak. “I have some news for your brother.” His face, stern as ever, softened fractionally. “It’s about your mother.” 

Standing her ground, Chastity folded her arms over her chest. “If it’s about Ma, then I should hear it too. Right, Credence?” she asked, throwing a challenging look his way.

“Mr. Graves is a police officer,” Credence said faintly. 

Worry stamped itself on Chastity’s features. “What? Has something happened to Ma?” she asked, turning to Mr. Graves. 

“Miss Barebone.” Mr. Graves spoke gently, and it caused a small stab of jealousy in Credence’s gut. “Can you please go get your little sister and come back here? I need to speak with all three of you.” 

Looking truly nervous now, Chastity started up the stairs. 

“You caught her,” Credence whispered, the moment Chastity disappeared from view. “That’s what you’re coming here to tell us.” 

Mr. Graves nodded solemnly. “Red-handed. She was passing off a boy to Mr. Shaw, but we managed to get to him before they could get away. The kid’s safe, Credence, thanks to you.” 

“Oh,” Credence breathed. He stared down at the ground, barely able to believe it. He’d actually managed to save someone. Relief swamped him, and his shoulders slumped in a full-body sigh. Suddenly, Mr. Graves’ hand was under his chin, tilting his head back. 

Concern clouded Mr. Graves’ gaze. “Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I’m okay.” Credence swayed towards Mr. Graves, almost drunk on his proximity. “I’m just overwhelmed, I think. But I’m happy.” 

Modesty and Chastity were almost silent as they made their way down the stairs, but Credence was accustomed enough to the sounds of the church to hear them. He guided them to the table, indicating that they should sit. Credence tried to appear calm, but he knew from the way that Modesty was eyeing him that he wasn’t doing a good job. 

Mr. Graves broke the silence. “Your mother has been arrested. She was caught collaborating with a child-trafficking ring.”

Credence winced slightly. That wasn’t the way he’d have preferred them to find out, but Mr. Graves was a blunt man. He couldn’t think why the police wouldn’t have sent someone with a little more tact to break the news to them--Tina, maybe--unless Mr. Graves had wanted to come himself. Credence cast that off as wishful thinking, fixing his attention on his sisters. 

“But what about us?” Modesty asked tremulously.  

Credence touched her hand, forcing a smile under the lingering guilt on his shoulders. “I’ll take care of you now.”

“This is preposterous!” Chastity cried indignantly. “Ma would never do something like that. She’s a godly woman.” 

“She was caught in the act of handing a child over,” Mr. Graves told Chastity sternly. “I’m afraid there’s been no mistake.”

Chastity still looked upset, but she only pressed her lips together, staring down at the table. 

Mr. Graves cleared his throat, waiting until Credence looked at him before he spoke. “Some other officers should be here before long to gather evidence. Once they’ve cleared the church, we’ll work on officially getting it into your hands.” 

“Are they-- How much are they going to take?” Credence didn’t know how much money he might inherit with the church. Having to buy new furniture would set them back. 

“They’ll only take what they need for the case. Most of it will probably be communications between Mary Lou and Shaw, documents, payment records, anything like that,” Mr. Graves assured him. “They won’t try and slip off with something they don’t need, not while I’m keeping an eye on them.”

“Do we get to stay here?” Modesty asked, glancing between Mr. Graves and Credence. 

“Yes,” Credence said softly. It was an easy thing to give his ma to the cops, but he couldn’t imagine doing the same to his sisters. 

Modesty’s face lit up. “And are we still going to feed the orphans?”

“For as long as we can,” Credence promised. 

There was another knock at the door, and this time, Credence answered. 

A few officers strode in, Tina among them. She gave Credence a polite smile before joining the others as they scoured the church. 

Credence ushered his sisters outside as the officers fell to their work, opening drawers, sweeping bedrooms, riffling through papers. 

“Credence?” Modesty asked, tugging on his hand. “Who was that man?”

“Percival Graves,” Credence said, a hint of color suffusing his cheeks. “He’s a policeman.” 

“He’s handsome.” 

Chastity opened her mouth as if to say something, but clearly thought better of it. Whatever comment she had, she kept it to herself, glancing sidelong at Credence. 

It took a few hours before the investigators were finished. Not having anywhere else to go, the Barebones stayed clustered on the front steps. Modesty had a couple ideas for changes around the church, and eventually even Chastity was coaxed into making her own suggestions. Credence was starting to feel better by the time Mr. Graves came out to let them know that the team was done. 

Credence watched as the officers all filed out, Tina giving him a small wave of farewell. He turned to Mr. Graves, chewing on his lip. “You’re leaving, then,” he said. 

“I am.”

“It… doesn’t feel right to  _ thank _ you,” Credence said, fidgeting. 

One corner of Mr. Graves’ lips curled into a smile, and he placed a hand on Credence’s shoulder. “I understand. Goodbye, Credence.” 

“Goodbye, Mr. Graves.” Credence watched him walk away until Modesty pulled at his hand again. He offered his free hand to Chastity and, to his surprise, she accepted. Together, they went back into the church, the doors swinging closed behind them.   
-   
It was several weeks before Credence saw Mr. Graves again. Credence didn’t dwell on his absence as much as he’d used to; he was too busy trying to fix up the church. Modesty wanted it to be more welcoming, and Credence set about making it happen. 

Chastity didn’t seem too happy with the changes at first, but she was coming into her own taking charge of the orphans. 

It was still early, but it was going well, and Credence found that he was able to put aside a little spending money. Eventually, he even had enough to open a bank account. He was on his way back from a trip to the bank when he walked past a man with salt-and-pepper hair, and was suddenly struck with the thought of Mr. Graves. Credence hadn’t seen him since the investigation ended, and he’d never properly thanked him. It was only because of him that they’d managed to turn their lives around. 

Credence changed direction, heading instead for Kowalski’s. He figured Graves wouldn’t have suggested the place if he didn’t like it, so it would be a safe place to buy him something from.  

Credence reached the steps of the police station with an orange-zested pastry that he couldn’t name clutched in his hands. Mr. Kowalski himself had recommended it after Credence stood there, staring at the selection for 15 minutes. It was supposed to be the most popular item in the shop, so surely Mr. Graves would appreciate it. 

He took a few deep breaths, not wanting to be visibly shaking when he went inside. The pastry looked handsome, and it smelled amazing, which was comforting. Mr. Graves was going to enjoy it, he was definitely going to like it, and he would be happy to receive it, which was why Credence needed to go inside. 

Credence kept staring at the steps, trying to work up his nerve, when Mr. Graves stepped out at the top. 

“Credence?” He didn’t sound unhappy, and it spurred Credence into action.

“Mr. Graves,” he replied. He finally started up the stairs, only to trip on the first step. The pastry went flying. Credence pushed himself back up immediately, staring in dismay at the pastry bag. 

Mr. Graves hurried down the steps towards him. “Are you okay?” He stood over Credence, and offered him his hand. 

Credence reached up to accept, only to notice Mr. Graves’ fingers. He turned red despite himself, as he noticed how much thicker they were than his own. He cleared his throat and looked away. “I’m so sorry, that was supposed to be for you.” He nodded towards the fallen bag, half the pastry spattered on the cement.

After Mr. Graves had helped Credence to his feet, he scooped up what was left of the pastry. It slumped to the bottom of the bag, inedible. “It’s the thought that counts,” Mr. Graves said, giving Credence a lopsided smile.

Credence let out a sharp bark of laughter. “It would probably have tasted better without the asphalt.”

Mr. Graves chuckled, looked Credence up and down again. 

Feeling a bit self-conscious under Mr. Graves’ scrutiny, Credence dusted himself down. Thankfully, he hadn’t hurt himself much with the fall. The heels of his hands were a little scraped up, but otherwise he was fine. 

“How about we go for a drink instead?” Mr. Graves asked, disposing of the pastry bag. “My apartment is only a couple blocks from here, and I just bought some new scotch.” He lifted his eyebrows in inquiry.

Credence’s eyes widened, both at the idea of visiting Mr. Graves’  _ apartment _ , and also at the casual mention of alcohol. He gulped and nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds nice.” 

“Don’t look so scandalized,” Mr. Graves said, indicating that Credence should walk beside him. “There’s not a single one of us on the force who’s actually dry.” He smiled slightly, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

They wandered down the streets, Mr. Graves leading the way. “How are things going at the church?” 

“Everything is going really well. Modesty and Chastity have been helping out, so we’ve been able to keep helping the orphans.” Credence lit up as he spoke, eager to be doing something truly good for once.

Mr. Graves smiled softly at him. “Nice to hear it’s been working out for you. And your sisters.” He sobered up slightly, looking a little hesitant. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.” 

Credence stopped walking, waiting until Mr. Graves had stopped as well. Credence reached out one hand as if to take hold of him before thinking better of it. “Mr. Graves,” he said somberly. “You saved us.” 

“That’s kind of you to say,” Mr. Graves said quietly. Then, smiling, he offered Credence his arm. 

Credence’s heart skipped a beat as he took it. They continued on towards Mr. Graves’ apartment, talking about the goings on at the church.

Eventually, they came upon a towering, crenellated building, where even the stonework spoke of opulence. Smartly dressed men, women, and children flowed in and out of the doors, all of them with an air of self-importance around them. 

“You live here?” Credence sputtered, craning his neck to look towards the top. He was suddenly very aware of his second-hand clothes and conservative hairstyle. Surely Mr. Graves shouldn’t want to be seen with someone like him. 

Mr. Graves muttered something about an inheritance before continuing inside, Credence still holding onto him. 

They took the lift, manned by a small man whom Mr. Graves greeted as ‘Red’. Credence almost felt dizzy by the time they finally reached their stop on the 45th floor. 

Mr. Graves led him down a short hallway that had only one door at the very end. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, unlocking the door and flicking on the lights. 

The apartment was nice and spacious. It wasn’t as big as the church, but it felt more like a home.

“Let me show you around,” Mr. Graves said, but it sounded more like a question. 

Credence nodded, trailing after him as he made his way through the place. Mr. Graves called it ‘a short tour’ as Credence goggled at a full size kitchen, a breakfast nook, and a study, before they settled in the sitting room. 

“Have a seat,” Mr. Graves offered, tilting his head toward the couch. “I’ll make you that drink.” He poured Credence a glass of scotch, then busied himself turning on the radio and lighting a fire in the hearth. 

Credence sipped his drink, trying not to cough as it burned its way down his throat. The jazzy tones of a lady’s voice filtered through the radio. 

When he was done, Mr. Graves settled next to Credence with a glass of his own. 

Credence sighed as he settled back against the cushions, drink in hand. The scotch was slowly relaxing him. Warm both inside and out, he studied Mr. Graves’ profile next to him. Even though the thought was ridiculous, he couldn’t help but think that everything felt so romantic.  

Mr. Graves cupped his cheek suddenly and Credence only just managed not to flinch. “Credence,” he murmured, leaning in slowly and carefully, “let me know if I’m misreading this.” And then Mr. Graves kissed him. 

Credence’s breath caught in his chest. When they broke apart, all he could see was Mr. Graves’ dark eyes, his lips slightly parted as his chest rose and fell. “You… you aren’t misreading anything,” Credence panted, when he could finally bring himself to speak. 

They both moved in for their second kiss, this one a little more heated. Mr. Graves wound one arm around Credence’s waist, drawing him closer. Credence tried to move with the pull, only for his drink to splash over the rim onto his hand. 

Mr. Graves noticed and broke the kiss. “We should put these down.” He plucked the glass from Credence’s hand and placed it on the coffee table, along with his own. 

Credence thought he’d spoiled the mood, but Mr. Graves turned right back around and kissed him again. He guided Credence down until he was stretched out beneath him on the couch. 

Neither of them pulled away until they absolutely had to breathe. Credence lay panting underneath Mr. Graves as he pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, peppering more down his jawline, his throat. Credence wrapped his arms around Mr. Graves’ shoulders, carding his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. 

Mr. Graves broke Credence’s hold to start undoing the buttons of his shirt. Pushing it off his shoulders, he continued kissing a path down his body. 

Credence whined a little when he felt Mr. Graves’ mouth on his belly. 

Mr. Graves only stopped when he’d reached the waistband of Credence’s pants. He deftly popped the button and tugged the zipper down, pausing with his fingers hooked through his belt loops. “Is this okay?” he asked, voice thick with desire. 

“Yes, Mr. Graves,” Credence breathed. 

“You can call me Percival.” Percival held his gaze as he drew Credence out. “Now it’s always quick the first time. Don’t try to hold yourself back. I just want to make you feel good.” Without further warning, he swallowed Credence down, hollowing out his cheeks. 

Credence convulsed and scratched at Percival’s shoulders, too overwhelmed to grab at his hair. Percival was right; Credence felt like he’d barely lasted a minute before his world whited out. His mouth stretched open, and his hips would have arched off the couch if Percival hadn’t pinned them down. 

Percival pulled off him, running his tongue over his lips.

The move was shameless, and it made Credence blush. He tried to stretch, feeling languid but strangely energized, but there wasn’t much room to spread himself out on the narrow couch.

“Maybe the couch wasn’t the best place for this,” Percival laughed. He stood, lifting Credence in his arms. “Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.” He carried Credence down an unfamiliar hallway. It turned out to lead to Percival’s bedroom, a comfortable looking room dominated by a dark-wood four-poster.

Percival went straight to it, settling Credence onto the mattress. 

It was incredibly soft, the sheets underneath him as smooth as silk. “Do you want to sleep?” Credence asked, lying back obediently just in case. 

“No,” said Percival. “Do  _ you _ want to sleep?”  

“No.” Credence hauled Percival on top of him by grabbing his belt.  

“Wait, wait.” Percival caught his weight on his hands, laughing. “I’ll take care of this. You have clothes of your own to worry about.” 

Percival pulled away to peel off his shirt while Credence slipped out of his pants. Both of them left their clothes discarded on the floor. Credence couldn’t even be self conscious because he was caught up in staring at Percival.

To Credence’s surprise, Percival didn’t come back to him immediately. Instead, he reached into the drawer of the bedside nightstand. He pulled out a small bottle of clear liquid, squeezing it liberally onto his fingers.   

“What’s that?” Credence asked as Percival settled between his legs. 

“Helpful,” Percival told him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “It’ll keep me from hurting you.”

Credence hadn’t even realized that such a thing existed. He wondered how much better his lonely nights would have been with lubrication. He spread his legs wider in silent invitation.  

“I want you to tell me if I should slow down or stop.” Percival looked at him sternly. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Credence nodded frantically. He’d spent so long thinking about this, what it might be like under Percival’s care and attention. He wanted it now, in case he woke up, suddenly back in the church before everything had changed. “Please.” 

Slowly, carefully, Percival pushed one finger into him. 

Credence dropped his head back the moment he was penetrated. It was a familiar sensation by that point, but deliciously different now that it was Percival’s fingers instead of his own. He relaxed quickly, completely accepting the intrusion.   

“Well, that...” Percival sounded breathless, and he cleared his throat before continuing, “that was faster than I expected.” There was a teasing but suspicious lilt to his tone. “Have you done this before?” 

For a moment, Credence wondered if it would be better to lie, claim he was untouched so that Percival wouldn’t think him tarnished. But he pushed the thought away. It was the sort of poison that would come from his ma, never Percival. “Yes,” he admitted, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ve touched myself there before when--when I was thinking of you.” 

Percival stilled, and Credence looked up at him, steeled for an expression of disapproval or disgust. Both were absent, however, Percival instead staring at him with a naked hunger. He huffed a laugh under Credence’s scrutiny and said, “I’ve done the same.” And he added a second finger. 

Percival kept working him open, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every part of Credence he could reach. 

Credence writhed, adjusting quickly again but still savoring the fullness. Between that, and the way Percival gave him little bites that he soothed with kisses, Credence felt himself beginning to harden.

After a moment more, Percival pulled away, and Credence whined at his sudden absence. But Percival shushed him patiently, muttering, “Need more.” Credence understood when he saw the bottle of lubricant again. As Percival applied more, Credence whispered, “I can take three.”

A muscle jumped in Percival’s jaw, but he said nothing before he pushed three freshly lubed fingers in. 

Credence’s hands twisted in the bedsheets. It was more of a stretch than he was used to, and he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. He keened long and high in the back of his throat, trying to grind his hips down onto Percival’s fingers. He’d so been right, Percival filled him more than he’d ever managed himself. 

Then Percival swiped over that certain spot inside him, and his whine gave way to a moan. His cock twitched and he got that much closer to the edge. 

“Should I let you come now?” Percival asked, his hot breath ghosting over Credence’s cock. “Or do you want to wait till I’m inside you?”

“Inside me,” Credence whimpered. He expected Percival to pull his fingers out and enter him as they were, but Percival moved to lie beside him. 

“This is your first time, isn’t it?” Percival asked, as if he needed Credence’s confirmation to know. 

Credence nodded mutely. 

“Then you should be in control.” Percival pulled Credence towards him, settling him just above his hips.

Credence leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of Percival’s neck. He was blushing deeply, unable to maintain eye contact.

One of Percival’s hands left Credence’s waist. Credence couldn’t see what he was doing, but then he felt the blunt head of Percival’s cock nudging at his entrance. Whimpering, Credence pushed back against it.  

In response, Percival flexed his hips upwards. 

All Credence’s breath left him in a sharp cry as Percival sank fully into him. Credence panted into the curve of Percival’s neck, willing himself to move, but he just stayed where he was, draped over Percival.

“Do you need help?” Percival asked, one hand tracing down the line of his spine.

Credence nodded, wilting a little. He couldn’t do this without Percival’s help.

Percival gripped Credence’s hips, holding him in place as he rolled his own upwards. He moved them together, setting a slow, languorous pace. 

It didn’t take long for Credence to relax into it. He even started moving his hips along with Percival, pushing back against him and sliding forward of his own accord. 

Percival kissed his temple. “Enjoying yourself?” he whispered in his ear.

Credence nodded, trying to respond verbally, but it came out as a whimper. 

“Do you want to go faster?” 

Credence nodded again, but Percival’s pace remained steady. 

“So go faster.”

Finally, Credence lifted his head. Percival stilled beneath him as Credence hauled himself into a sitting position, and braced his hands against his chest. He let out a long, slow breath, meeting Percival’s gaze as he rolled his hips experimentally. 

From this position, it was all too easy to see Percival looking at him, and Credence briefly wanted to hide his face again. But the hunger burning in Percival’s eyes scorched away any lingering doubts or embarrassment. 

Credence set to increasing the pace, lifting himself up and sliding back down with an artful roll of his hips. It was harder to keep his balance like that, and he found himself reaching back with one hand, bracing it against Percival’s thigh. 

Percival swore, and his hips jerked up. For a second, Credence thought he had come. But then Percival nudged Credence to keep moving. “Close,” he rasped, and he wrapped his hand around Credence’s cock.

Credence felt like he didn’t even need the extra help after the new angle, but he wasn’t about to complain. Each nerve was a livewire, electrifying him with every brush of Percival’s fingers, every roll of his hips. Soon, he was spilling into Percival’s hand, crying out in pleasure. 

When Credence began to droop against his chest, Percival reared up, winding one arm tightly around his waist. He kept pressing forward until Credence was splayed out on his back once more, sweat-slicked and panting. He drove his hips forward, fast and rough. 

Credence moaned appreciatively, still trying to move with Percival even though he was spent. But then all too soon, Percival stopped. He pulled out and finished in his own hand, painting Credence’s stomach white. 

Credence tried to catch his breath, his whole body buzzing, overwhelmed and euphoric. He shifted, and Percival moved back until he was off the bed entirely. For an instant, Credence wondered if he had done something wrong. 

“I’ll be right back,” Percival assured him, before he disappeared through a doorway. 

Credence sat there, staring after him, until Percival returned with a damp wash cloth in hand. 

Percival wiped Credence’s belly and the juncture between his legs until they were clean. Then he returned to what Credence assumed was a washroom. The sound of running water filtered out, and soon Percival returned.

He climbed into the bed next to Credence. “You can stay here for the night. If you want.” 

Credence was still capable of leaving if he had to, and would have, if Percival hadn’t said anything. But his heart leapt at the invitation, and he eagerly accepted.

Percival smiled and lifted the sheets, patting the space next to him. 

Credence dragged his body up, and slipped under with a contented yawn. He moved to rest his head on Percival’s chest once he’d settled. 

Percival wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and leaned down for one more kiss. “Goodnight, Credence.” 

“Goodnight, Percival,” Credence murmured, already half asleep. The last thing he felt as he slid into unconsciousness was Percival’s arm tightening fractionally around him, and contentment settling over him like a blanket. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [stimulation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184726) by [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr)




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